Her
by sunmountainsweets
Summary: Something I started writing 10 years ago and put on the shelf. I am posting here for some help. I will post a new "chapter" every couple days. I love all of the readers and reviews! Two girls. Two paths. One love. Her.
1. The End is the Beginning

Walking through the bush of the forest, she stopped to tie her shoe. A fly buzzed by her head as she bent down and her attention forced itself to the proud flower that beamed on her right. The petals erased all thought that was flowing through her head. Full of wonder and trepidation, she willed her hand toward the smoldering blossom.

* * *

Stevie sat up in bed and decidedly walked to the bathroom to kill herself. "I can't fucking believe that bastard…," she chanted in a dead whisper as her feet led her to a fate that waited in the commode. Thoughts of that bastard's kind words caused a small bitter smile to jerk at her mouth. Images of the bastard's betrayal opened the gates to her flood. Reflections of the bastard's dark eyes gave way to a whimper and tears garnished the ground before each step towards unknowing.

* * *

"Molly!" Lucas couldn't believe his wife. He was up for the biggest promotion of his life and all she could do was whine about her 'condition'. "Condition my ass," he whispered to himself. He paced the floor for ten minutes before deciding to go upstairs and check on her. She had said she was coming. She had promised him she would be there for his big day. She had. All of these thoughts raced through Lucas's mind as he pushed open the door to the bathroom and saw what had been keeping his wife. A thin red line of blood ran from her freshly sliced wrists to immense pool of the stuff lying stagnant on the happy couple's pale ivory floor.

Luke rushed down to his wife and screamed hysterically as he grabbed her up off the floor. "Molly, Honey? Don't do this. Don't do this. Don't do this." Luke chanted between sobs. Thoughts upon thoughts rushed through Luke's mind. Molly's smile. Molly's eyes. Molly's laughter. Molly. Molly. Molly.

Luke's phone started to buzz and he savagely reached for it. Instead of answering the thing, he hung up. 911 came from his fingers faster than he could think to do it. " _Breath_." Luke dropped her on the floor. "What the fuck!" he stood straight up and vomited all over the blood pool in which he had been swimming. The thick puddle of Molly overtook Luke's contribution. He stood over the fiasco and stared. Molly was against the toilet and her face and hair were covered in the blood. Her face was expressionless. The eyes were open and black. Luke knelt down in his own vomit and dead wife's blood. He cupped her chin and gently lifted her head. Her eyes were absolutely blank. They no longer held the mystery. The spark was faded. Luke's eyes teared again and he broke down. He stared at her dead eyes through his tears. "Was it so bad?" He cried. "Was it so fucking horrible here? With me?" He took his hand away viscously and her head dropped back down.

He calmly walked out of the bathroom, down the stairs and out the front door. He took Molly's cigarettes out from under the birdhouse on the porch and slowly sparked a match. A police car pulled up with its lights on but sirens silent. _Thank God for that favor._ Luke thought. His head was pounding and stuffed from all of the crying. He drew in the smoke and coughed a little. He only had had one cigarette in his life. Molly had given it to him in the seventh grade. He was trying to impress her. _Man, I love her._ Tears fell again. Gently rolling off his cheeks and onto his blood soaked shirt.

"Sir?" The officer slowly stepped out of his vehicle with his hand cautiously over his holstered gun. "Sir? Are you alright sir? We had a call com from this residence. Sir! What's going on? Are you ok? SIR!" Luke looked at the policeman squarely in the eye.

"I am not alright." Luke took another drag of the cigarette and continued, "My wife," His voice broke and staggered a bit, "My wife is…she's, she's in the bathroom." Luke whimpered a little and the officer broke in.

"Sir, is your wife alright? Was there a break in? Is somebody hurt?"

"SHE'S DEAD!" Luke's agony turned to rage and the policeman immediately pulled his gun and pointed it at Luke.

"Sir, put your hands behind you head and get on your knees!" He spoke into his receiver and told the dispatcher to send back up, "We have a possible 187 on our hands." Luke put the cigarette in the corner of his mouth and dropped to his knees. He stayed there limp as the officer came towards him. Luke watched as the man reached for his cuffs and sighed deeply. _Figures._ He thought. Seconds later three police cars and an ambulance pulled up.

"I didn't kill my wife you morons." Luke said quietly through the cloud of smoke. The officer pulled him to his feet and yanked his hands behind his back and cuffed him. Before dragging Luke to his cruiser, he reached around and flicked the cigarette out of Luke's mouth. Luke breathed deeply and let the man drag him to the police car


	2. She never did

Molly thrust the half-dressed doll in Stevie's face and screamed, "here! You be the dark one, ok? And I'll be the princess and you come and save me how 'bout." Stevie quietly succumbed to Molly's brash instructions and smiled; smiled and played with her. The two girls' ritualistic procedure of playtime was always as follows: Molly choosing what they were to play, Molly choosing the toy that was the newest or prettiest, and Molly pretty much dictating the whole exercise. Stevie was just there; always just there. However, the two were inseparable. Each night, before the other went to bed, they both whispered the other's name before closing their eyes. Like a prayer for days to come, "Molly…" Stevie closed her eyes slowly and fell into darkness. "Stevie?" Molly lay awake for awhile and heard the doorknob. "Stevie…"

* * *

Stevie could never sleep very well. Tossing and turning; turning and screaming. Dreaming was her biggest problem. Not that her dreams held some all important message the world had to know, or that they were the epiphanies that one would wait for all of their lives, they just startled her. She used to say to herself at night that her eyes were just too curious to want to be shut behind her dark eyelids so long. She thought of that now, lying in bed. Eyes open as wide as they were when she was born, staring up at the sparkling plaster of her bedroom ceiling. "Jesus," she sighed. Two days so far of not sleeping. Two days of pure hell that can't undo. Closing her eyes and lying still on her bed would only make it worse. Thoughts upon thoughts would bounce around in her bead, causing an aneurysm or something. "Dammit, if only…I could…never mind." With that she continued to lie there; alone and awake in the darkness.

* * *

Nobody knows what went on inside, inside of the flower, inside of the flower that day. The girl's hand retreated, she took it away. She took it back only, only to rot, only to rot off a day later. Her face remained darkened, her body started to shake. The loudest wail in the history of the town.

* * *

Molly stared at herself in the body length mirror and fought the tears that raged beneath her lids. She looked at her mouth; red and full and perfectly pouty. She glared at her eyes; dark and inviting without the invitation. She scoffed at her hair; long and flawlessly curled. She cringed when her glance went to her bare shoulders; hair and veil resting on lovely almond skin. Almost perfect. She blew a kiss at herself and slammed out of the dressing room of the church.

She met her soon-to-be father in law at the beginning of the long emerald carpet leading to her ridiculously false fate. "Are you ready?" Luke's dad smiled warmly at Molly. She allowed herself to break and smiled sweetly back at him when she nodded. They linked arms and awaited the proper music.

 _You'll be fine, you'll be fine, you'll be fine, you're only getting married. MARRIED? What the hell were you thinking when you said 'yes'? Now there's no turning back. How am I supposed to live with this? I don't want this. I never did. I don't want this. I never did._ She walked out with that perfect false smile adorning her mouth to the mournful wedding tune being played on the organ.

Luke's eyes followed her and she could barely look at him. Her knees shook with each step. Without realization, she clung to his father in a last act of desperation. He gave her a side glance and shook his elbow a bit. Molly straightened. They finally stopped in front of the groomsmen and bridesmaids, the priest and groom. The music faded and the priest loudly asked, "Who accepts this woman into their family?" Molly could barely help rolling her eyes even a little. Luke let his disappointment wash over him when he saw. Molly recuperated quickly with a few fake tears and a glowing smile. Luke's father announced proudly that the span style="text-decoration: underline;" /span family did. With that Molly took Luke's outstretched hand and stood next to him at the alter.

Molly's brain shut down. After it was all over, she pranced down the aisle with a fake smile on her face; gazing adoringly at the man of her dreams. During the entire ceremony all Molly could do to function was imagine the eyes of another. They danced defiantly across the plane of her conscious thought; green warriors daring her to look back into them; urging her to walk away from this mound of shit and into the misty depths of another's soul. But she never succumbed. She went on through the ceremony with that glorious smile and award-winning charm.

When Lucas watched molly throughout the night, his expression held nothing but adoration. Molly's busy eyes, however, might have happened to glance at her lifelong love five times at the most. Each and every look was the same: Molly looking over at Lucas as though it was timed and rehearsed, Molly putting her hand to her chest with false and seeming candid relief, Molly looking away and walking to the bathroom to scream and scream because she had to do it again.


	3. Discovering Everything

The phone rang at ten-thirty. "Hello?" The answer from the other end came just in time before the telephone was slammed onto its receiver. "Yes, um, I…am calling…for Ms…." the line went dead and the hesitant voice on the other end simply called again.

"HELLO?"

"Yes, Ms. Connely. I am calling about your daughter. She…" Click.

* * *

"Mommy?" The woman sat in her chair without even looking at the small child who quietly called to her with her voice and screamed in need with her eyes. "Mommy?"

"Come on honey. We'll go and get some ice cream ok?" The girl looked at the man who stood like a barricade before her. A slight shake of her head and her expression changes. The man took her small, soft, baby, hand in his and led her defeated form outside.

* * *

When she opened the door a floor of brilliant white light entered the room where they sat together, where they sat together, where they sat together.

* * *

"Tea…yeah, I think I'll have some tea; sweetener and cream, if you would, as well." The older woman sat peering at the waitress over the menu. "And I want the tea to be brewed before it gets here…I hate having to wait for my tea to get black. Oh, I guess I'll have a piece of pie as well."

Nimble and soft, the woman handed the menu to the waitress and lit a long awaited cigarette. With the first drag she smiled slightly. Her brain raced about everything it could possibly bump into. Finally she chose to rest on a somewhat comforting subject, the past. That's all that really made her life happy was the past; the past with her sunshine, the past with her sunshine, the light and dark of her life.

* * *

Stevie walked into the club with open reluctance. Peering into the fogginess of the dance floor she made her way to the bar, "bourbon on the rocks with a twist," the bartender gave her a slight nod and went to the other end of the bar to make her drink.

"My favorite," came seeping out of the drunk person's mouth that was standing next to Stevie at the bar. A look of great anticipation washed over the face and Stevie was drawn to the eyes as is they held the secret to the afterlife. "That's all I ever drink…" said Stevie. Smile. The grin was subtle but there and Stevie saw it.

"I prefer a slow screw," a hand came up to Stevie's arm and the figure was shoved into her as dancers flooded the bar. The bartender reached over the crowd and Stevie snatched her drink as soon as she handed him the proper amount of cash. She was hesitant and intrigued; warm and burning with no guts to put out the flame. A whisper….

"Wanna go in the back?" Stevie up at the shape molded before her. Things raced through her mind, millions of perverse possibilities.

"Yes."

* * *

Brilliance spread throughout the girl's finger as they approached the valiantly blushing petals. Feelings of light and warmth traveled through her bloodstream up her arm and into her heart. She smiled. _How beautiful._

* * *

"Wanna try something?"

"Like what?"

"I saw on tv these two people in a bed…it looked sorta…I don't know…like it would be fun or something."

"What do you mean like a nap?" the girls giggled for a long time.

"No! Don't make me say it stupid!"

"You mean," gasp, "Huh uhh…they did not, did they?"

"Would I lie about something like that?"

"Where did you see it?"

"I found a video in the closet."

"So you think it feels good then?"

"I don't know, that's why I think we should try…wanna?"

"Ok. You first…wait…I'll go first. Take your pants off."

* * *

A kiss, sloppy and drunken, full of tongue and slobber, messy and fast. Stevie was in a trance. This dark form pressed against her, groping her ass and breasts with rushed, drunken passion. She pulled at the long hair with abandon as the two found the bathroom stall and continued on their mutual journey toward forgetting.

* * *

The red the green the yellow the pain.

The dread the scream that followed the pain.

The thread of her dream that he swallowed the pain.

* * *

"Thanks Jeff," said the elderly woman to her long trusted doorman. He simply nodded and accepted the gratitude with a small smile tugging at his lips. She raced to the elevator, "Shit," she said under her breath as she encountered her; the dyke. Right there in the elevator, her fucking building.

"Hello Mrs.….I don't think we've met," said the girl with the outstretched hand.

"There's a damn good reason for it to," said the older woman as she made her way to the stairs, slamming the door behind her. "I only live on the second floor anyway," she said to herself. A look of utter disgust overcame her expression as she thought of that sinner; the dyke. "I wonder if Molly's ok." She walked into her darkened apartment and shut the door. On to the bedroom she went to do the one thing that she did every night, pray for her daughter.

* * *

Music blared in the background. Stevie was too busy to notice it. She was trapped in a passion she'd not experienced for way too long. "I want you." the two left and went to Stevie's house.

"I hope that you can handle bourbon." Stevie looked over at the figure who'd come home with her from the club. She was undressing. First, she let her small black skirt drop to her ankles to reveal thigh high stockings and a bare cunt. Stevie stopped searching for glasses and stood straight up, swallowing, waiting for what she would do next. The woman undid each of her shirt front buttons with painful slowness. That came off next and fell to the floor. Naked, save for her stockings, the lover sauntered over to a chair no more than three feet from where Stevie was standing. With the lucidity of a feline, the woman lifted her foot to rest on the chair in front of her, revealing herself in full view to Stevie. Slowly she rolled a stocking down her leg and threw it at Stevie, daring her to do something about the other one. Stevie caught the sock and clutched it before she threw it to the ground and covered the distance between the two of them.

Their bodies slammed together and the woman ripped off Stevie's clothing as she licked, sucked, and bit every inch of flesh that was uncovered. Once all of her clothes were on the floor, the woman left her there, standing in the middle of the kitchen; quivering. Stevie opened her eyes and turned around, searching for her love of the moment. There she was, sitting on the countertop; legs open in brazen invite to Stevie.

She was consumed by her lust. Stevie rushed over to the stranger sitting on her counter and took her in her mouth. Stevie lapped at her, growing more excited by the second. She sucked and nibbled with abandon. The woman's hold on Stevie's hair tightened and her thighs gripped her head. A scream filled the room when the woman came and flashes filled Stevie's mind. Flashes of another's screams; flashes of the only one that ever mattered. To keep herself from crying, she kissed her way up the woman's belly and chest and finally captured her mouth in a wicked telling kiss that left them both breathless.

Stevie didn't know what to do. The woman led her to the bedroom. Stevie cried. Stevie cried. Stevie cried.

* * *

"Molly? Are you ready for this honey?" Lucas's sickening sweet gesture towards kindness was the doorway that Molly needed to escape her awful wedding night. However, she thought to herself that it was inevitable. So she complied with the disgusting sexual advances of her new husband and cried. Molly cried. Molly cried. Molly cried.


	4. Petals

"Molly!" Francine walked back to the kitchen after calling her daughter to dinner. _Where is that girl?_ Cutting the vegetables and tossing the salad occupied her mind only for a short while until she realized that her sunshine still hadn't come down to set the table for dinner. At the base of the stairs she called out again, "Molly! That girl, I swear to Jesus above me." She climbed the stairs and continued as she opened the door to her ten year old daughter's bedroom.

"Molly dear? You have to come downstairs and help…" Francine screamed and covered her mouth when she saw her sunshine naked on the floor with her friend. There they were the two of them, touching each other. "Get out! Get out of my house, you little tramp! Here, take your filthy clothes and get out! You're never to talk to my Molly again, you hear?! AGAIN! You little bitch! GET OUT!" Francine pulled the girl, Stevie, out of her daughter's bedroom by her frail young arm, dragged her down the front stairs, and threw her thin form down the brick of her front porch.

* * *

"What happened honey?" Stevie's aunt had been her stand-in mother for years. Her real mother died giving birth and her father was unknown, probably even to him. "Why is your arm bruised like that? Any why are your pants unbuttoned…" She gasped violently, "honey, did someone pick you up? Did someone touch you in a bad way? Tell me Stevie. What happened?"

"I didn't mean to Aunt Ginny. It just happened. Molly wanted to play something different today and I-I-I," Stevie had to stop and sob for a moment as she looked at her aunt. A look of shock and disbelief adorned her features. "Please don't be angry with me auntie."

Gwen pulled the distraught little girl and rocked her back and forth. She kissed her hair and stroked her back and led her to the bathroom where she could wash her tears away and listen, openly, to what Stevie was trying to tell her. "Molly told me that it would be fun, that we could try only cause we didn't have anything else to do."

"What is it that Molly wanted to play?" Gwen smoothed Stevie's long hair down and gently prodded for some answers.

"I can't tell you Aunt Ginnie! Molly's mom was sooo angry when she caught us! We…we just…Molly said that…Oh auntie!" Stevie's pitiful whine pulled Gwen to the realization that maybe, _no, they wouldn't have…would they have?_ She thought. She pulled Stevie into her embrace and calmly pushed her towards telling her what had happened. "We did some things that you see on tv…like…you know…we kissed. Molly said that since we are best friends, that its ok for us to kiss like that like cause we like each other enough…or something like that, Aunt Ginnie?"

"Yes, Stevie?" Gwen's composure was breaking, but she held on to it for Stevie's sake and answered her question as best she could.

"Why did Mol's mom call me a tramp?"

"Good Christ! She said that to you?"

"Yes, and she said-she said-" Stevie sobbed a bit more and held to her aunt as if a whirlwind would sweep her away if she didn't.

"What did she say sweetie?" Gwen's heart was breaking, seeing Stevie this way. Her little girl wouldn't have done this if she'd only known. Gwen thought that she did know.

"She said that I couldn't see Mol ever again, auntie!" Stevie whispered in shock. Tears welled up again and Stevie let them fall.

"It's ok, sweetie, it's alright. You didn't know that's all. Auntie's here. It's ok. I swear it'll be fine."

* * *

The woman glared down at her daughter with indignation and disgust as she paced around the kitchen table where the girl sat, eyes down. The words wouldn't come out. She wanted to yell and scream and hit and beat and grab and hold and love and cherish her sunshine; she didn't and she couldn't Not now. She was tainted. "Why, Molly?"

Molly's innocent eyes looked into her mother's and her tears fell more freely when the abhorrence that she met there grew. She was so confused. _We weren't doing anything wrong, Mommy, can't you see that?_

"Stop that damn crying, Molly. I don't want to hear it right now." Francine slowed a bit and continued, "Unless you want me to give you a reason to cry. Because I won't hesitate, Molly Frances. I can beat you senseless for what I caught you and that-that girl doing. Why would you do something so disgusting? Did she make you do it?" Francine pulled a chair next to Molly's and sat staring at her daughter, obviously growing more and more impatient at the fact that Molly was not trying to give her an explanation. "Answer me NOW!"

Molly looked up at her mother and instantly looked back down. Francine's face had turned red in rage and her nostrils were flared as she breathed rather heavily. "I…"

"YES?"

"I don't know what happened." Molly stammered out, "I mean, it just _did_ happen."

Francine reared up and slapped Molly across her face so hard that she went reeling to the cold linoleum floor. "You had better give me the truth, girl! I won't have you lying to me on top of committing those sinful things!" While saying all of this, Francine had taken hold of Molly's arm, gripping the life out it. It lost feeling and started to turn purple. All the while, Francine was yelling obscenities at her daughter, trying to get her to respond, Molly stared at her arm. The pain was nothing now. A realization had been building and it was almost finished before Francine knocked her out.

The woman had slapped her daughter at least ten times hard across the face . The last time hadn't been a slap though. Her hand had closed into a fist and she bashed the little girl's skull; skin ripped apart and blood spilled everywhere.

* * *

"Stevie?" Molly whispered. She struggled to get her eyes open. Light hurt. So she kept them closed. No idea about what was going on had come to Molly at that point. She didn't even know where she was.

"It's alright, sweetie, its all ok now." A voice. _Who is that?_ Molly thought. She moaned in protest at this foreign voice whispering to her. "We're going to have to explain all of this to her." Another voice. _What's going on? Where's Stevie?_ "Let her sleep. She needs to sleep."

Molly's head hurt, but the pain was different. It ached and felt fuzzy. The only things that she saw in her mind were eyes; green eyes. They danced around and invited her to join them. She almost let go before being forced to waken. "Honey? How do you feel? I know that your head still hurts, but does it hurt really, really bad?" Molly opened her eyes and, to her surprise, the light no longer hurt. Her throat was dry and she struggled to grunt out. "No."

"Good! Good. That's very good then. I am Dr. Perselle and I worked on your head injury." Molly saw above her a tall and very slender woman in a white coat with glasses. She possessed a very warm smile and Molly tried to return it. "Do you remember what happened to you, doll?" Molly shook her head. Dr. Perselle's brow furrowed with worry as she sat down on the edge of the bed and took Molly's small hand in hers. "You are in a hospital, honey. The reason that you are here is because of your mother. She-"

With a sudden burst of energy, Molly yelled over Dr. Perselle's explanation, "Mommy didn't do anything! I fell! She didn't touch me!" the words came out perplexed and pained and seemingly rehearsed; full of fear and worry. Dr. Perselle looked at the viscous bruise on the girl's arm. It wrapped all of the way around and looked like a hand print. She grew concerned and told Molly to go to sleep, that she would be right back as she inched towards the door to call child services.

"Molly? Ok, Honey. I need you to do Mommy a big favor. You know that I would never hurt you unless I had to; unless you were being punished. Please baby. You understand what mommy's trying to tell you, right?" Mechanically, Molly nodded and her mother smiled at the child's blank expression. "Good girl."

After her mother left a barrage of people had flowed through her hospital room. They all asked the same questions and they all got the same answers. Molly gave them the same charming smile and silly little girl expressions, all the while harboring a secret. A secret that could have brought her mother and stepfather down a long dark road of justice. But she knew that she couldn't do that. Losing the hell of a home would mean losing Stevie and that was a sacrifice that she would never be willing to make.

On the drive home Francine didn't thank her daughter for doing what she did. She didn't say anything until they reached the house. Putting the car in park in the driveway, Francine turned to her daughter and said, "I suggest that you go upstairs and get ready to help me make dinner. You're father is going to be home soon and he'll not be happy about what happened today."

"Mommy no! Please don't tell him! He'll, he'll…" She whimpered into silence and Francine smiled in disgust.

"He'll _what?_ "

"Nothing, mother. I'll be down in a few minutes to help you." She kept her head down and slowly went upstairs to change.


End file.
